I’m just saying a bonus where he keeps getting close to reader anddd idk maybe it’s on tour and they get stuck in a closet or something and he gets all huffy about her being with Jackie.
Then they fuss a bit and he finally kisses her and she melts into it because it’s something she’s wanted for a bit and one kiss leads to another and they’re going at it in the closet. Then they carry out the affair for a few months, his hotel, his car, the studio until he asks her to leave him while they are having sex and she says yes cause hello dickmatized
Warnings: infidelity (from both m & f), p in v .
a/n : i'm realizing through this entire thing there's zero jackie dialogue😭😭 sorry sexy
It had all started so simple.
Michael flirted. You ignored him, brushing off his actions as childish antics that would soon falter as he got older and realized the ridiculousness of his actions.
But to your dismay, he didn't.
From the outside, Jackie was seemingly unphased, extremly secure in your relationship. But behind closed doors he and his younger brother would often get into raucous altercations over the blatant disrespect your relationship was treated with.
Hayvenhurst summers were undoubtedly the worse.
You would come out in your swimwear, and all the brothers would whistle and/or make sly comments. But Michael would stay silent, his head tilted slightly as he took you in, bottom lip nudged between his teeth. His face saying everything that his mouth didn't.
He'd been pushing up on you extra heavy this past month, and if it wasn't his own brain fooling him, he would've sworn your resistance was letting up too.
By August 28th 1981, the Triumph Tour was in full swing, the show of the evening at the Chicago Stadium. The stadium was a symphony of sound, not lyrics —yet— but of racket. The stage hands and audio technicians busy with the task of turning the stadium into a functional performing ground.
Michael, ever on your tail, had discovered you sitting alone in the red velvet seats of the stadium, squinting with concern as he noticed your knee bouncing in its spot; a telltale sign that something had gone completely wrong.
You had barely turned your head in his direction before shooing Michael away, lip trembling slightly with the effort of holding back tears. "Not now Michael. I'm not in a talking mood."
He still lingered, voice softening into a register so tender you almost melted. "What's wrong, mama?"
"I swear I said, not now.. shouldn't you be touching up your makeup or something before the show..."
Michael sighs. He should be doing that. But once he realized you hadn't been popping your head in the dressing room where the guys were every few minutes to either crack a joke or check in, he knew something was up.
And the moment Jackie trailed back into the dressing room, a crease in his brow and jaw working despite no gum between his lips— MIchael realized either his brother had picked up a coke habit or he'd been in an argument. Putting two and two together he figured it was the latter.
"What's with you and prying all the time, Michael? Hm?" When he didn't answer right away, you kissed your teeth.
"Oh now you're all out of words? Hit your limit for the day?" You stood, pushing Michael, your words spewing out from pure residual anger.
Michael sighs, his voice a breathy whisper, stumbling back from the shove. "Why are you still with him if he makes you feel this way? You're never like this. Can't you see how you're acting? I just wanted to check in, Ma."
He turns on his heel, the glitter of his vest sparkling beneath the lights as he descends the stairs.
"Wha-I- the fuck?" You manage out, stumbling upon your words. "You don't get to say things like that and walk away!"
Michael continues moving, his long strides bringing him to the bottom of the stairs with ease, now making his way towards the dressing room— deliberately ignoring you.
You'd never run that fast in your life, taking off after him and forcing him against the painted checkered wall of the narrow hallway.
Well, force was a choice word. It wasn't exactly force if he could escape when he pleased.
Michael dipped his head low, breath brushing over your ear. "Now you wanna be up against me?"
"This isn't that! I'm confronting you! I'm- I.." The words die in your throat as fast as you conjure them, the feeling of his hands resting on your lower back inches away from your ass clouding the last sensible thoughts you'd have for the rest of the evening.
"You knew he was cheating. You know he's been cheating for months, didn't you?" Michael tilted his head, hands slowly sliding to cup the plump flesh of your backside.
You nod, gaze dropping to the floor in shame. God, was this embarrassing.
"I love it when you say my name." He whispers, shaking his head to get back on topic. "And yet, the one time you catch him in the act, you're heartbroken? Don't play games with me, Y/N. I know you. Your eyes have been doing some wandering of their own, haven't they?"
You groan, cheeks hot with the accusation. "Y'really gonna make me say it?"
Before Michael has time to respond, the dressing room door down the hall flies open and you both can already see the foot of who you presume to be Marlon poking out, mumbling something that earned a quick laugh from the other brothers inside. You didn't see much else given that Michael had smoothly pulled you both into the closet that you hadn't even known existed, your world quickly succumbing to the sheer darkness of the cramped room.
Beneath the darkness of the room you could barely see Michael, but you could feel it all. The weight of his body was warm and almost unbearable, his frame adjusting to meet you. He was leaning into you, your back pressed firmly against the door.
He could feel your gaze burning daggers into his skin, still trying to hold up a falling front.
"You can't really tell me you wanted to get caught by Marlon.. he probably stepped out to look for me anyhow."
"Don't think this change-"
Michael's hands find the sides of your face, holding you near. "Stop fighting it.. stop fighting me." His voice flows out in a low deep timbre, your stomach growing warm at the sound.
His lips press against yours and in an instant you fold, melting into his embrace like play putty, ready to be molded and touched.
When he pulls away, the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk, watching you chase his lips just to suspend the moment. His thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone, lips peppering the skin of your face, everywhere but your lips again.
"Thought you didn't want this?"
You roll your eyes, murmuring a quick "Oh shut up," before bringing him into another kiss, eager to feel his lips against yours again.
Through every stage Michael was taunting, reminding you that you never wanted this in the first place, or that you've been denying him every since you and Jackie got together.
The teasing didn't cease when he plunged into you, drilling your insides with a relentless place that had your toes curling and fingers gripping the door handle, his shirt and anything else that could ground you from his relentless strokes.
He also didn't pull out, leaving the middle of your purple leggings soaked with the mixture of both his cum and yours since you didn't have enough time to clean up. The sight alone was enough to cause another arguement between Jackie and you and you didn't have time, nor did you feel like arguing. So you left the show early, Michael's jacket wrapped around your waist so you could change clothes before your boyfriend noticed.
For the next month, you and Michael snuck off with each other to have quick rendezvous before shows, after them, and even on the road.
You'd seen more Michael in the past month than you'd seen Jackie in a year's time of a relationship.
The second month following the success of the Triumph Tour led to more complex relations, where the sneaky link part meant having to be extra sneaky.
Michael had to work around his schedule, and that meant his hotel after long work days, the backseat of his car with the partition up and his fingers in your mouth to muffle your sounds, and as of recent; the studio.
And when I say as of recent, I mean, as of now.
The studio was vacant as Quincy, the studio engineer and everyone else had cleared out for a forty-five minute break. Quincy exclaimed that Michael should be resting his voice and eating well to ensure that he used his studio time to its maximum.
Your bare chest was pressed against the control panel, nipples sensitive and stiff from the delicious friction the nozzles and knobs provided. Your body moved back and forth with the pressure of Michael's dick, soft mewls escaping as he kept ramming into that spot, his hand gentle on the arch of your back to keep hitting it with precision.
"Feel s'good, mama.." Michael threw his head back, hips drawing those same repetitious circles and thrusts into the warmth of your cunt.
You simply replied with a muffled "Mhmpf.." body too wrecked to think straight.
Noticing the slight dumbification you were experiencing, Michael pipes up, a possessive flare in his gut, as he reaches around to rub your clit. "Tell me you'll leave him, Y/N, tell me.."
"I'll le-oh ri-right there.." The words are cut off by the pleasure coursing through your veins, trembling slightly beneath his hold. "I'll leave 'em."
"When? Be punc-tu-al." With every syllable of punctual, Michael thrusts impossibly deeper, snapping his hips with a hint of aggression.
" 'Morrow.. I'll call 'em.. 'round twelve."
"There you go.." Michael smirks, cataloguing the response.
The following day, true to your words, you left Jackie.
He screamed and fussed, telling you the many reasons why you couldn't do this to him.
Thankfully, you decided to pack your bag early morning before he woke, and this call was happening in the comfort of your own apartment.
"Hang up.." Michael whispered, hand snaking around the bare flesh of your thigh.
"But he'll loose it! I can't just-"
"You can, and it seems like he already lost 'it'. He's not your concern anymore, focus on us."
Before he even finished his sentence you'd already hung up, phone set on its receiver with ease. A soft sigh escapes your lips. Somebody needs to conduct a study on why this sexy ass man was able to convince you to do almost anything he pleased.
His hands were already cupping your cheeks, bringing you towards him for a peck. "That's my girl..."
